Yesterday I could have been back at the Fringe.

I started off with an excellent play at the Traverse; at least the production was excellent though I'm not sure that the text will stand the test of time.  The three actors switched instantly from one character to another with just a change of voice and stance where we lesser lights would have needed an hour's make-up and a new costume.  They were ably supported by a sometimes complex and and always faultlessly executed technical plot.

Then it was off to the Blackadder exhibition.  Judging by the videos shown there and by a radio interview I heard recently she's a lovely lady and the critics say she's a great artist but her vision is not mine although I wouldn't refuse an apron sporting one of her flower paintings.

Despite saying that she's not really interested in acting Tilda Swinton gets the job done well in We Need to Talk about Kevin which I saw next.  But for my money the actors who play the eponymous villain make the movie.  It jumps back and forward a lot in time which is no doubt a device to keep our interest alive since we've pretty well sussed out that it will all end in tears before bedtime by the time the title comes up.

If you go to see it pay particular attention to the final scene in which Tilda says very clearly "I just want you to tell me why". I just want you to tell me what her screen son replies since either my ears, his delivery or a passing jet liner robbed me of the pleasure.

There was no not hearing Prokoviev at the Usher Hall later nor the jazz quartet with which I finished the evening in Bill Kyle's splendid establishment.